


Como Fue

by lluviadinoche



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Bittersweet, But also two macho men learn to COPE, Fights, Flashbacks, M/M, Memories, Past Relationship(s), Romano messes up, Self-Discovery, Self-Reflection, Young Love, and Cuba calls him out on it, behold my rarest of rare pairs, that i love so much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29068059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lluviadinoche/pseuds/lluviadinoche
Summary: “Spain is insisting I ruined your Spanish?” he laughed.“Yep.” Lorenzo snorted, “I came back from your place with a rooster tattoo and speaking Spanish differently and he lost it as if he cared so much before.”He watched as Elian threw his head back in laugher, and the way that his smile remained wide even after he met his eyes again.Years later and it still made his heart flutter and his tongue go numb. He couldn’t help it. He supposed that he never really did move past those feelings that lingered back then. The hopeful thoughts that maybe one day things would be better than they were back then and that he could be more than a stupid teenager who made even more stupid decisions when it came to love and friendship and what the smallest things meant to Elian.--------In which Romano and Cuba learn to love again and grow with each other - even if mistakes were made.--------This is based on some loose history my friend and I found for Cuba and Southern Italy and how I worked it in with my normal headcanons. I will put notes to any references with each chapter.
Relationships: Cuba/South Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Cuando Te Veo Con El

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loca/gifts).



> Chapters on this will be shorter than what I normally post but this also means it will updated more frequently.
> 
> Elian will be the human name used for Cuba in this fic.

Meetings were always such a bore and Lorenzo always found himself doodling instead. Regardless of how much he enjoyed being able to represent his nation the days that Feliciano was sick, he had to admit nothing ever got done and it always seemed to be the same things dragging on. So he doodled.

Glancing over across the table, his eyes trailed down locs that fell gently down that suit. That beard and those arms that he wished would hold him close. Soon his doodles went from mindless sketches of birds and snakes and whatever things came to his mind to a page full of careful lines to capture the beauty of that man in front of him.

Careful shading and the most delicate care as he glanced up to make sure every detail was right.

Wandering eyes met his paper and he glared as he was nudged by a rather cheeky looking Spain.

“This is the third time that I’ve caught you drawing him at the meeting, Lore. I’m starting to think there’s more than the fact he sits across from you when it comes to this.”

“ _Antonio dejame en paz”_ he groaned, quickly covering the drawing with his arms, face going red.

Of course, he did not stop. It seemed that he only had one thing to pass the time and it was infuriating him and being an absolute pain in the ass.

“Oh come on,” he chuckled, “You don’t exactly attempt to hide the way you stare at him. I think people are starting to take bets on which of you two will confess first.”

At that, he swatted him away, not amused at being teased for his crush. It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway and he didn’t want to think about other nations placing bets on him just to watch his heart get broken. As amusing as it may be to them, to him it was not.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept both my and his name out of your mouths. You know he hates it when you especially speak or perceive him at all.” Lorenzo grumbled softly.

Antonio reached over, grabbing his chin like he was some child. He shook Lorenzo’s head gently, a smile on his face while Lore stuck his tongue out in protest.

“If you’re going to let him ruin your Spanish, you might as well let him ruin your back too-”

“Antonio!” Lorenzo pulled away, laughing but still throwing a punch at him regardless, “You can’t just say things like that! Oh my god! what if he heard you?”

“Then maybe he’ll take the hint.”

He rolled his eyes, shoving Antonio away and going back to his doodling. Though, it didn’t go very well nor easily. No. He always did act like he came straight out of a soap opera, refusing to have attention drawn away before he said it could be.

Antonio draped himself - or at least _attempted_ \- over Lorenzo, pawing at the drawing lazily.

“Pero _Loreeee! Mi sol!_ ” he bemoaned loud enough to turn heads.

How did this always seem to happen every meeting he managed to attend?

He shoved him off which only resulted in _more_ dramatic groans from Antonio as he pleaded for attention. He was a desperate cat who was starving! Starving! His pathetic grovelling cried out! He was needing that reassurance that Lorenzo all too happily was denying him as he poked him with the pen.

He burst into a fit of laughter as Antonio jumped and went to rub his side. Finally - he could work on his doodle again. Carefully work each line over and over until it did Elian justice. He was even able to ignore the rest of Antonio’s useless moping. He could think about those eyes that looked like they carried life and birthed the vibrant parts of nature. As he shoved Antonio lazily from leaning on him, he could think of his tattoos and how he wanted to trace his fingers along each one. Imagine what those hands would feel like wrapped around his and what it would be like to lay in his arms-

_Crunch._

It was so faint and had Lorenzo not glanced over to continue where he left off (and to swat Antonio away), he might not have noticed the broken pen in Cuba’s hand and the way his stare seemed so intense and pierced through him.

Lorenzo’s eyes met Elian’s and that glare hesitated before finally falling. He turned away, eyes darting to the ground, and locs falling forward as he did. He tried to see what he looked like before but to no avail. The only image imprinted on the side of his brain being his glare and the ink that ruined that perfectly white shirt he had been wearing.

Elian didn’t relax the rest of the meeting and so Lorenzo’s almost done sketch was left unfinished.

Soft lines of his shoulders and arms, faint outlines of his tattoos, the most careful shading on his face that reached to the neck and stopped so harshly. A million little dots and ink lines that could have been something but now were only faint ideas that couldn’t be captured again.


	2. Veni Ca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elian thinks about Lorenzo and wonders if the past is something he should still linger on. Also this ink stain is going to be a bitch to wash out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- "modern" era stuff at the moment is in 2003.  
> \- the references to Lorenzo living with Elian has to do with Italian immigrants in Cuba in the 19th century. Romano in this case would have worked for Elian for a few years before having gone to work for Alfred.  
> \- Mr. Italy in all of Elian's thoughts would still be Romano. While he would have met Northern Italians including Genoa in the 16th century, he knew them as their respective regions. Romano would have been the first he simply met as Italy.  
> \- Elian's thoughts will be written in a different style as you can tell here because I don't feel I can truly capture his thoughts in the way I traditionally write so I'm messing around with diction for this fic to present him better.

_Cuba, 1873_

“You sound like you have a stick up your ass. You don’t have to talk like that you know” He said so casually to him.

Italy stopped behind him, brows furrowed and seeming to take slight offense, “Huh-”

“The way you speak Spanish.” he continued, not even blinking once at the way the other man looked more and more horrified, “You sound like Spain. Like you have a stick up your ass.”

Elian moved to get his door open, not paying much attention to how uncomfortable the other looked and summing it up to the heat. He supposed it was warmer than what he must have been used to, but there wasn’t much he could do there.

“It’s the only Spanish I know. I thought your Spanish sounded odd - but I guess it doesn’t make sense for you to sound odd in your own home.”

He paused, turning his head over to look at him. What?

This had to be some sort of tragic joke or attempt at one - aye caray, it wasn’t. His face didn’t give away any sign that this was meant to be something to laugh about. Those eyes looked like a kicked puppy. No falter at all. No - Oh! Haha! I got you! I actually don’t speak like that! I just wanted to see how you’d react to Español A La Colonizer!

Pero no.

Este flaquito nadamas habla asi - que triste.

“Oh god. I am so sorry for you. That is actually really unfortunate. Jesus - the only Spanish you know? I’d throw myself off a ship or something. That’s tragic-” he tried to speak, wanting to smack himself at every word that spilled from his mouth.

“I appreciate it.”

Elian glanced over at Mr. Italy, seeing how he really didn’t seem to care much anymore, looking more agitated than anything. 

What a wonderful way to introduce himself to him.

* * *

What if he was a dickhead now?

That was all he could think about as soon as he saw Lorenzo talking to Antonio. 

They’d talked a few times in brief passing the last two meetings he had shown up to. The first being awkward and rather rushed and the other being a bad time for the both of them it seemed. Lorenzo had rushed out, saying a quick hello and then dashing out.

But there seemed to be no rush today. Really, it seemed like it was the first time they were genuinely there.

And god he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually talk this time.

Part of him longed to desperately - he wanted some sort of sign that maybe there was a chance at something there. He knew it was the teenager in him crying out but still! He deserved something nice in life and really, the thought of a chance at that - with less bullshit this time - seemed so wonderful.

But what if he changed?

Their brief conversations were hardly much to base something off of. What if he was a douchebag who thought he was better than him now? _Ñooo, what if he was like Antonio now?_

The thought made his stomach turn and his brows furrow. 

God. He didn’t know if he really wanted to find out.

It wasn’t as if things ended the best way when he left. The thought of him going from simply ignorant to aware was such a transition he didn’t want to see at all. He didn’t want to think about it.

But oh god, maybe that was why their conversations were so awkward and short? Lorenzo didn’t actually want to speak to him nor continue whatever weird bond they had-

No, he was better than that.

_Pero si no has hablado con el en como unos cientos-_

Elian’s brows scrunched more and he kept tossing the possibilities of what Mr. Italy could have been like now with the amount of time he spent with Europe.

After all, he was quite a bit older than him and he seemed to be doing much better than the last time they met (meaning he thought he got swole but he wouldn’t really admit that to himself). He had to worry about the possibility with this change that it meant that he was another Euro-douche.

He hadn’t even asked him to touch up that rooster tattoo since he got it and Elian was quite proud of that damn thing still after over a century!

The signs were clearly there! The one who was once a close friend could have become a complete comemierda-

_CRACK_

His hand - was moist?

Elian blinked and when he did, Lorenzo was staring right at him.

Oh God had he been staring at him that long?

That wasn’t creepy was it?

Did he have resting bitch face?

Wait shit his pen! It exploded and was on his shirt now! His eyes flickered away to look down at the mess he made and he frowned. This was going to be a pain to clean out. Stupid cheap ass meeting pens. No sirven para nada!

This is why he tried to bring his own pero nooooo.

Whatever, he’d clean it up later.

“Romano, it’s your turn to speak.”

Oh shit, maybe he should pay attention and see if he could find out if he was a prick or not.

Eyes shot back over to him, but he paused his own thoughts.

Why did he have to look so attractive?

It was like a punch to the gut to see him now, smiling, looking so different from the scrawny thing that ended up at his door. His hair was actually moisturized too. He looked good just like he did the two meetings before and it made his throat go dry. Again.

Now he was aware he was staring because he couldn’t hear any of the words coming from his mouth - he was lost in a sea of brown. His heart was beating fast and begging to the universe or whatever was out there, possibly listening, for him to not be a dickhead because the dreams of his younger self were knocking at his door again with soft pleas.

_Can’t we just have this one thing?_

“- and Feli invites you all to come if you’d like. He even is offering some space in his home if anyone would like. I’m going to be there as well if anyone wants to have some drinks and be with sane people.”

Now he was paying attention. He sat up just a little bit straighter, pulling his stare away before Lorenzo could look his way. Venice? Could he get that approved by his boss? It wasn’t exactly business but maybe if he said it was he could milk a trip out of it. Elian had no idea why he would be going to Venice, but he was making it happen now.

“I think I’ll go.” he said a little too loudly, not even aware he had shot out of his seat. But there he was - standing up tall, looking like he’d won the lottery.

Lorenzo looked at him, slight confusion was written on his face that felt like an arrow through the heart.

Oh god, he hated him. Quick, save this! Find an excuse. Anything! Something!

It was then Elian noticed the other eyes on him. Nations surprised and really, he couldn’t blame them. He only ever spoke at these things to make some sort of insult or simply state his news. He didn’t really care enough to say much else and fill the room with useless words like _some nations._ However, he had been given a chance - that felt like a mistake with how he was being stared at - to make actual conversation with Lorenzo.

He could find out what changed, what stayed the same, and really if his stupid teenage dreams were worth pursuing now as an adult. It was plain logic that maybe he shouldn’t pursue something from over a hundred years ago. Still, he longed to know. He hated that those feelings never really died - especially after everything Lorenzo had put him through back then with his bullshit.

But still, he longed to know if there was a chance the man he talked about the future with still felt a fraction of what he felt for him back then.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, “It would be good for international relations. I think-”

“Then I guess we’ll be seeing you there, Elian.” laughed Lorenzo.

That little laugh and the wink that followed was all Elian needed to let go of the tension in his shoulders. Sitting back down, he went back to scribbling away to find a way to make sure he ended up in Venice.

Wait - he still hadn’t paid attention enough to know why he was going to Venice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Pero no.
> 
> Este flaquito nadamas habla asi - que triste.: But no. This skinny thing just speaks like that - how sad.
> 
> Pero si no has hablado con el en como unos cientos- : But if you haven't spoken to him in like a hundred-
> 
> No sirven para nada!: They don't work for anything!
> 
> Ñooo - expression placeholder for a lot of things like "oh jeez", "fuck", "woah".
> 
> Comemierda - Shiteater


	3. Pero Me Amas Tambien?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorenzo and Elian have a conversation after the meeting and Lorenzo thinks about all of the things he said wrong back then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Romeo is Seborga and has a father-son relationship with Romano. This will be dived more into later to explain why Feliciano isn't his parental figure.  
> \- The cock thing is a joke hc I have where Romano and Cuba refer to all chickens as cocks.

“The 60th annual film festival in Venice is coming up and Feli invites you all to come if you’d like.” Lorenzo announced, “He even is offering some space in his home if anyone would like. I’m going to be there as well if anyone wants to have some drinks and be with sane people.”

Some light laughter filled the room and he glanced over to Elian who was staring intently at his paper. He pursed his lips, thinking about the last time that they saw each other. He was much thinner back then - they both were. Now they weren’t starving and well, Lorenzo’s eyes were certainly wandering quite a bit as he spoke.

Pulling them away, he turned back to the other nations and smiled.

“I think I’ll go.”

Heads turned towards Cuba who was suddenly standing up. He didn’t ever really speak beyond his announcements and updates but as if Romano really knew that. This was the third time he was seeing him and he didn’t really speak much or pay attention much either.

Elian noticed the eyes on him and cleared his throat, “It would be good for international relations. I think-”

Lorenzo, too oblivious to notice the way his eyes followed him throughout the meeting, thought nothing else of it beyond wondering since when had Elian wanted  _ any _ sort of communication with Feliciano that wasn’t forced?

* * *

_ “I was only being friendly. You read far too deeply into my actions.” _

* * *

“I didn’t take you for someone who wanted to strengthen trade and relations with my brother.” Lorenzo laughed after the meeting.

“Why not?” he shrugged with a laugh, “I need to get out more, I suppose. My boss might finally let loose a little if I do.”

“Maybe so.” Lorenzo chuckled, “Maybe you and I can have a few drinks and catch up. It’s been a while.”

“It has, hasn’t it?”

Lorenzo couldn’t remember the last time he took so long to walk out of the meeting room. Though, he also hadn't been allowed at meetings in general until recently. Feliciano was needing him to take his place more and more and he couldn't complain too much there. It gave him chances to build up the courage to talk to Elian.

But he had to admit, Elian was something else to look at now. They weren’t these scrawny eighteen-year-olds with hungry mouths and hurting minds. They were grown and Elian towered over him and he was...thicker.

Lord was it terrible of him to be glancing at those arms and the tattoos that peeked from under his shirt and as his eyes trailed over that chest for a moment, he felt his face grow warm. He was something so beautiful and it was unfair how his mind betrayed him and thought of things he knew well that he could not have. Of words he wished would be whispered into his ear as he was held close.

It was different than their texts now - which weren’t anything in depth anyway. Lorenzo didn’t even know what to say and he felt bad for the conversations being so stale. How was it he got his number two meetings ago and still didn’t have the balls to have a genuine conversation with him?

_ Because you know what you did, Lore. _

And he did. So he opted to sending a picture of chickens every few days. He could use the excuse of these damn phones being so weird and not being used to them still. He milked it every chance he could, but now he was beginning to realize he was only making the hole he was in deeper.

He avoided a genuine conversation with him and now he was like a flustered teenager all over again in front of him. This wasn’t pictures he could smile and swoon over in private - this was Elian right before him making his heart race and his throat run dry. This was Elian smiling bright and leaning down to poke his forehead teasingly while those locs slid down his shoulder and seemed so close for Lorenzo to reach over and tuck back with nothing but an amorous desire he knew to be too ridiculous 

“You’re always welcome to stay at my place. Uh! My place that I have there for when I need to be up North or when I’m spending time with Romeo.” he said before he could think twice about his words, “I-If you want of course. Feli can be pretty overwhelming. But you don’t have to! You can stay somewhere else. Just an offer-” He wanted to punch himself in the face.

He screamed internally, cursing himself for having done that. That was a move that he couldn’t pull with the stale conversations he’d had with him. First of all, they were hardly friends again and also, how was he going to invite Elian over without knowing-

“I might just take you up on that offer.” Elian pulled his hair back, “Might make my boss ease up a little on the trip.”

He was melting again. It wasn’t fair - he couldn’t get his heart to stop beating so fast. Every time Elian looked at him he wanted to know if there was a chance for him to fix what he’d done. He couldn’t take back the words he said back then nor the way he treated him, but god did he long for something - anything.

However, this trip wasn’t about him. Elian was coming because Feliciano was there and it seemed he had some sort of plan when it came to relations. But maybe - maybe for just a little - he could steal him away. It wasn’t as if Feliciano would notice or care much after all.

“I should get going, but I can’t wait to see you there. I’ll make sure to keep a bed open if you decide to stay with me.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you around then. And hey, it’s nice to talk to you.”

Lingering thoughts and touches.

Soft whispers.

And goodbyes that came too soon.

Lorenzo wanted to turn back time.

* * *

_ “Am I a game to you?  _

_ Something to entertain your time?” _


	4. Ti Voglio Bene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last into chapter I swear. Things actually kick off from here haha.
> 
> Elian thinks about the past and what he wants from this trip

_ Cuba, 1873 _

“So you’re not speaking Spanish like that on purpose?” Elian asked, putting some coffee in front of Lorenzo.

The man burst into laughter, waving his hand and shaking his head. He seemed to be losing breath at the suggestion.

And it was the most horrendous laugh he’d ever heard.

“Oddio - No! I didn’t even know it made me sound like I have a stick up my ass.” he continued to laugh, “I thought this was the standard. But I suppose I should know better than to trust Spain on that - especially when he’s hung around Feliciano so much these days he’s started saying  _ my _ Italian is sloppy.”

He tilted his head, looking at Lorenzo with a half frown. He knew that it wasn’t his place to really critique such things given that he hardly knew a word of Italian - but this was a representative of Italy so why would Spain be critiquing  _ his _ Italian?

Though, he supposed it was Antonio and he was...himself.

“Your Italian? It sounds perfect to me. I mean - you are Italy so it would be odd for it not to, no?” He sipped at his own coffee. One eyebrow remained quirked as he met Mr. Italy’s eyes.

And Elian watched as Lorenzo rolled his eyes and shrugged, lifting the coffee up to his lips, “I’m nothing but a trophy at this point for whatever big empire comes next. I once would have liked to have thought of myself as a decent Italy. But I don’t think the rest of Europe agrees much. I’m too ‘savage’ to them and really, I’ve accepted that it is what I’ll always be in some sense to them - regardless of how the future plays out. After all, my brother is why I’m here to begin with. If I cannot trust him, who can I trust?”

Me.

He had wanted to say that, but he knew far better. First of all, he hardly knew Mr. Italy. He could have been lying to him for sympathy for all he knew and then he’d turn to stab him in the back. What proof did he have that he was any different.

“The world is harsh, yes.” he said instead.

“It is. But if I am being honest. This is the first time in ages I have felt a twinge of hope that maybe life will be alright for me. Even if only for a little.” Lorenzo said softly, putting his coffee down.

There wasn’t silence between them, but there weren’t any words either after that. When Lorenzo looked up and met Elian with those brown eyes, he was met with eyes black as the night but full of a bittersweet sort of compassion.

This one wasn’t like the other Europeans he’d met - he didn’t seek greatness and he didn’t seem to be able to achieve it if he tried. He looked weary and worn and everything that he’d never known could come from the continent that produced people like Antonio. All he’d known was the heel of those like Portugal, Spain - even France distantly. There was this sense of being a commodity to them rather than a being and their prides never seemed to falter. Even now as they all crumbled, it remained strong in the smallest things like their posture and the way their smiles fell on others.

But Lorenzo, as odd as he was, as European as he still was, seemed like all he wanted was to breathe. 

And Elian wanted just the same.

* * *

Why had he said he was going to go to Venice? Why had he said that! The point was that he was trying to figure out if Lorenzo was a prick and now here he was agreeing to go to Venice so that he could be closer to him!

He didn’t even know if Lorenzo could actually tolerate him.

_ Well, he had invited him to stay with him and he really wasn’t planning to turn down that offer. But also he didn’t even know what he was planning to go to Venice for. _

Maybe he should find out before he teleported his ass to Europe.

_ But he’s attractive as hell, man. _

And that much was true.

Did that make him - fuck what was the word in English?

Not vain, that suggests he cared too much about his own appearance and it wasn’t really quite that. Materialistic refers to objects and while he was a crow, that wasn’t it either.

_ Mierda… _

What was the goddamn word?

SHALLOW!

That was the word!

Did it make him shallow to be so focused on his looks right now? It wasn’t the only thing that he cared about of course - he wasn’t pathetic that way. But it wasn’t like he was blind either and he wouldn’t deny he looked like he was doing well.

He certainly smiled a lot more and it turned him into a weak mess of a man. He could hardly believe it was him when he looked at himself. Here he was, a fine man of his own, and he was tripping and stumbling over himself at the thought of being able to actually talk to Lorenzo for more than those moments in between or during meetings.

But the teenager in his brain wept.

_ ‘But Elian! His eyes are such a gorgeous color. And his hair looks like the best thing to bury your face in. Also have you seen those hands? Listen, listen. _

_ Tell me you don’t want to kiss that man’ _

But he could be an absolute asshole!

_ ‘But he has kissable lips. And those arms-’ _

He probably doesn’t even like you that way! Shut up teenager brain-

Wait wait.

_ Great. _

He was talking to himself.

Elian covered his face, sighing loudly. Maybe he could simply go to Venice and avoid talking to Lorenzo the entire time to avoid thinking too much about him and remove the clear illness he was suffering from where he was letting a European really fuck with his head again.

_ ‘Wasn’t that literally the only reason you said you’d go to Venice? You’re gonna choose talking to Feli over having some drinks with Lorenzo?’ _

Dammit!

And he was still talking to himself.

What on Earth was he doing? He was stressing so much over something that wouldn’t even be that horrible. He was jumping to assumptions based on his own deep fears. Lorenzo hadn’t even shown any signs of being bitter or like a prick. Honestly - he seemed so much healthier and happy.

He knew well the type of person he was capable of being - he’d allowed that man from before to hurt him terribly. And he still clung to it with a nasty grudge he couldn’t quite let go because he hadn’t even gotten an apology for it!

Logically, he knew he should let go given how long ago everything happened.

But there a certain sort of pain that lingered and left him wondering how much he’d regret this trip to Venice.

Hopefully not too much.

Because as bitter as he still was, as much as it all stung still as if had only happened yesterday, Elian really wanted to believe that Lorenzo was kind and warm and all the things he longed for him to be.


End file.
